


Hallmark, but make it Dimidue

by ttacticianmagician



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Christmas, Dash of mental health issues, Fluff, Gift Giving, Hugging, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Someone Help Them, These two want the best for each other but not themselves, dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttacticianmagician/pseuds/ttacticianmagician
Summary: Dimitri wants to give Dedue a special, handmade gift. Or several gifts, as he keeps messing up his attempts. As his failures mount into a conspicuous pile in his bedroom, will Dimitri manage to come up with the perfect present in time?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Hallmark, but make it Dimidue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yihou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yihou/gifts).



> Merry Christmas! This is a gift for my dear sister and the best beta reader an author could ask for. I slapped this together in like three days so pardon if there are any mistakes/inconsistencies. It also has references to the Dimitri birthday fic I wrote last year, [Of Vermin and Ghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908635), but you don't need to read that fic to understand this one.
> 
> Also the title has little to do with the fic. I just wanted to make that joke.

As the days grew shorter and the nights longer, as the air became so cold it froze the insides of whoever inhaled it, as gentle snow accumulated into piles that eventually hardened into dirty ice, Dimitri was running out of time to find the perfect gift for Dedue.

With all that happened throughout their year at the Officer's Academy, it would be reasonable to forget such a trivial thing. Mock battles, assassination attempts, kidnappings, the ever-present clambering of his ghosts. The life of the prince of Faerghus was never a dull one. But truthfully, he couldn't use that excuse because the matter of Dedue's present for the upcoming winter festival had been on his mind for a long time. 

In Dimitri's opinion, getting a gift for Dedue was easier said than done. The first problem was that he wasn't born and raised in Fodlan. For a long time, he didn't believe he should partake in the festivities. Dedue eventually accepted the annual winter festival and its traditions anyway, thanks to repeated efforts from Dimitri, but Dedue still held some reservations to this day. It was understandable, but regrettable.

The second and bigger problem was that Dedue's reactions to Dimitri's presents were lukewarm at best. He was courteous and grateful of course, but he also had plenty of objections on how he didn't deserve such expensive gifts. His smiles stemmed from formality, from how a vassal ought to act towards his lord, rather than genuine joy. In the four years that they've known each other, Dimitri was well aware of Dedue's taciturn attitude, and wouldn't change that for the world. Yet at the same time, he was determined to break through that stoic facade and put a great big smile on his face. Dedue may think he was hardly worthy of such love and attention, but Dimitri thought otherwise. 

And to actually get that point across, he wanted to create something with his own two hands this year. He didn't want to buy something like in the past. Yes, he knew that this sentiment was somewhat foolish. His previous presents to Dedue weren't lacking in any way just because they were purchased. But really, there was no better way to dethaw Dedue's icy exterior than to give him a highly personalized and heartfelt gift.

Unfortunately, Dimitri was no artisan, or even a capable crafter. His Crest-given strength, a product of his proud bloodline, also made it difficult to handle things without breaking it, as he found out over the course of the Ethereal Moon. Dimitri made a beautiful flower pot for Dedue's equally beautiful plants in the greenhouse, only to accidentally shatter it when he gripped it too hard. His attempt at a hand-knitted scarf tore apart in his hands, reducing it to a brightly colored but unsalvageable tangle of yarn. Dimitri even tried to work with materials that wouldn't break so easily, like metal for a helmet, but it didn't make up for his lack of experience and artistic senses. The helmet, if he could call it that, was more of a misshapen lump of iron that wouldn't fit Dedue's head. Or if he did manage to squeeze it on, it would be much too tight and heavy for practical use.

Still, he persisted. In between classes, missions, training, and his duties as a house leader, Dimitri seized any handful of free time to make something for Dedue. But as days turned into weeks, his failed attempts piled up in his bedroom. They served as ugly reminders of his worthless strength and clumsy hands, according to the whispers of his father, stepmother, and Glenn. Dimitri tried his best to ignore such taunts, but he still couldn't help but become frustrated. That rotten feeling was only exacerbated further when, for Dimitri's birthday, Dedue gifted him an expertly forged chestplate made of a rare metal from Duscur. Dimitri loved it, but at the same time, he grew more disappointed at his own efforts and more motivated to turn things around. He couldn't keep messing up, could he? He had to succeed sometime, right?

He had no other choice, not when there was only two days left until the winter festival's gift exchange. As desperate times called for desperate measures, Dimitri sought advice from his friends. Most of them, anyway. Felix no doubt would have nothing useful to say, and would just take the opportunity to belittle his efforts, so he skipped right over him and asked everyone else.

"Man, if I were you, I would've just given up and bought something already." Sylvain said unhelpfully. "There's still plenty of merchants left in the marketplace for last-minute gift shopping."

"I… will keep that in mind." Dimitri sighed. If one of his closest childhood friends told him to acquiesce, then maybe he should consider doing so.

Fortunately, his other friends were made of more stubborn stuff. Later that day, when he explained the situation to them and after hiding away the (store-bought) presents for his classmates, Dimitri invited Ingrid and Ashe to his room to rifle through his junk. They picked through clay shards, gnarled yarn, and shreds of fabric with enthusiasm, almost more befitting of vultures, but in the end, their efforts weren't in vain.

"Not all of this is trash." Ashe announced while holding up the remains of Dimitri's flower pot. "Some of this can be fixed, and others can be remade into something else."

"How do you propose fixing something like this?" Dimitri gestured towards the broken pottery in his hands.

"If you got some mortar, you could probably put this back together." Ashe replied with a sheepish smile. "Granted, it won't be as nice and neat as before, but the ruggedness would be part of its charm. Maybe?"

Dimitri nodded, deep in thought. He would have to be careful not to break it again, but it wasn't a bad idea otherwise.

"And what about you, Ingrid? I see you have found my hideous version of a scarf."

"Don’t put yourself down, Your Highness! The colors and patterns are very nice for your first attempt at knitting." Ingrid responded earnestly. "It would be a shame to throw it away. Why not cut it up and make a handcloth out of it?"

"That's… not a bad idea." Dimitri admitted. It was certainly better to get something useful out of his mangled scarf than to get rid of it. 

But even if he could heed Ingrid's and Ashe's suggestions, a lumpy flower pot and a small piece of cloth didn't excite the imagination. Dimitri nudged the distorted mass of iron on the ground with his foot. "I don't suppose either of you have any ideas on how to repurpose this?"

The two Blue Lions glanced at each other, then shrugged. "I was going to suggest making it into a training weight, but I don't think the blacksmiths have time to supervise students so close to the winter festival." Ingrid explained.

"It's quite alright. Reassembling the flower pot and cutting down the scarf will be enough work for me." Dimitri reassured her. "Thank you both for your help."

"Anytime, Your Highness." Ingrid bowed her head slightly. "But may I ask you something?"

"As a friend, you do not need my permission to speak your mind."

"Thank you, Your Highness, but I'm afraid I do need to seek permission in this case. To put it bluntly, why are you doing so much for Dedue?”

Dimitri couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Are you asking because you still hold a grudge against the people of Duscur?”

“No! Nothing like that! I’m just… a bit worried.” Ingrid averted her gaze while fidgeting in place. “You sounded so upset when you explained your troubles to us. And now that I got a full view of the situation, I’m afraid that you may be working yourself too hard about what’s supposed to be a joyous occasion.”

“I, uh, was actually thinking the same thing. Your Highness.” Ashe concurred in a timid voice. “I may not know Dedue as well as you do, but I don’t think he would be happy with how you’re agonizing yourself over him.”

“I understand, but…”

Dimitri trailed off before he could speak his mind. Dedue meant so much to him. He practically saved Dimitri’s life, as much as he saved his. Coming up with a good present was the least Dimitri could do for his closest friend. He would even go far as to say that he was more than a friend, but that was not something he could say in public. In fact, when the matter was broached so suddenly, Dimitri found himself at a loss for suitable words. 

After a lengthy pause, he swallowed his feelings and recited something else, something that would satisfy them. “I appreciate the concern, but be rest assured that I will not go overboard. How could I, with only two days left until the winter festival?”

Ingrid let out a sigh tinged with resignation. “That’s still plenty of time to wear yourself out. But as long as you recognize your limits, we cannot and will not stop you.”

“And if you need help with anything though, we’re always able to lend a hand. Please remember that.” Ashe added.

“I will. Thank you both. I promise that I will not give you anymore reason for concern.” Dimitri nodded towards them.

Because of his newfound goals, the rest of the day flew by. Dimitri's new pot and handcloth actually turned out well, at least by his standards. They weren't broken and they looked like what they were supposed to be. But even after his painstaking attempts to right his wrongs, he didn't think they were enough for Dedue. His loyal friend deserved more than trinkets barely saved from the scrap heap. That was why, with tomorrow's festivities hanging over Dimitri like a fourth ghost, he approached Annette and Mercedes with his predicament.

"... So you see, I still wish to make something nice for Dedue. It has to be quick to create, yet obvious in its sincerity. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Oh! I got it!" Annette exclaimed. "Why not write him a song?"

"A song?" Dimitri repeated after her. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind, mostly because Dedue wasn’t the musical kind of person. He would appreciate a song written by Dimitri, yes, but would he still like it if it came from his prince’s own lips? Dimitri’s singing was probably worse than his craftsmanship.

“Yeah. It’s hard to break something intangible!” Annette beamed. “Unless your voice can shatter glass, like Manuela.”

“I get your point, but I’m afraid I have to pass.” Dimitri shook his head. “Penning a song, then practicing it until I can sing it adequately, will take too much time.”

A brief look of disappointment crossed Annette’s face, but Mercedes’s cheery voice snapped her out of it. “What if you made food for him instead?”

Dimitri hesitated in his response. He hadn’t told anyone that he lost his sense of taste to the Tragedy of Duscur. He didn’t want people pitying him, or going out of their way to make him feel better. However, this secret of his lead to awkward situations like the one unfolding in front of him.

“I… am not as capable in the kitchen as Dedue.” He admitted. “He wouldn’t enjoy my meager attempt at cooking, not when he could make something better for himself.”

“Hm. I’m afraid I have to disagree. You’d be hard pressed to find a man that will turn down free food.” Mercedes smiled in a knowing way.

“And besides, why not make something that’s new to him?” Annette chimed in. 

“Now there’s an idea!” Mercedes eagerly clapped her hands together. “I happen to know that Dedue isn’t well versed in Fodlan desserts, so how about we try a simple recipe for cookies?”

“Cookies, huh?” Dimitri mumbled to himself. He could just imagine crushing those baked goods in his gauntlets until nothing remained but crumbs.

As if sensing his unease, Annette widened her smile. “Yeah! Cookies are really easy to make! Even I can whip up a batch in my sleep, and you know how disastrous I can be in the kitchen.”

Dimitri was surprised to hear such an admission and blinked in her direction. Still, her enthusiasm was contagious, especially after Mercedes and Annette promised their help. Dimitri insisted on handling the bulk of the work himself, but they would be around to supervise and offer pointers when needed. Since he only had one shot at baking the perfect cookies, he welcomed any sort of aid to not waste precious time.

They settled on making peanut butter cookies, a specialty from southern Adrestia. The recipe seemed simple yet exotic enough. Dimitri was confident these delectable treats would be enough to excite Dedue, if he pulled them off correctly. The image of Dedue’s smile delighted Dimitri so much, he didn’t care about how ridiculous he looked in an apron. Toiling away in Garreg Mach’s kitchen was unbecoming of a prince, but at this very moment, Dimitri wasn’t a prince. He was just a young, anxious, and hopeful man doing his best for his dear friend.

Churn the butter, peanut butter, sugar, and eggs in a bowl. Then sift flour, salt, and other powders together. For once, his unnatural strength gave him an advantage in his chosen endeavor. Dimitri could mix everything together and make the dough much faster than Annette and Mercedes. He could also squish them onto baking pans with ease, although he was of course careful not to flatten them into paper-thin wafers. 

As he put them in the oven and waited, the fears he had pushed aside earlier slowly crept up again. What if his last attempt at Dedue’s present was also a failure? He had his salvaged flower pot and handcloth to fall back on, but another blunder would be a decisive blow against his already weakened resolve. He had to succeed this time, if only to prove his doomsaying ghosts wrong and to give Dedue the best winter festival possible. Otherwise…

Dimitri tried to shake those dismal thoughts out of his head by losing himself in the nutty and sweet aroma that filled the kitchen. Soon enough, the cookies were done. Dimitri’s heart soared when he pulled them out of the oven. The golden-brown treats were beautifully shaped, with nary a burn or crack. They looked like something Dedue could make, even.

There was, however, the matter of taste. The three Blue Lions had to wait until they cooled down, but they each pounced on a sample as soon as it was safe to. Dimitri’s peanut butter cookie crumbled wonderfully in his mouth. As he practically inhaled it, its fresh smell and warmth alleviated his worries like a panacea. If the texture and scent was heavenly, then its taste should be up to the same standards, right? And yet, he caught a glimpse of panic on Mercedes’s and Annette’s faces when he turned their way.

“Is there something wrong?” Dimitri asked through a mouth full of crumbs.

“Uh-” Annette started, then was stopped short by a side glance from her friend.

“The cookies taste great, Dimitri. Dedue will surely love them. Isn’t that right, Annie?”

Mercedes’s purple gaze, as soft as it was, made Annette shrivel in place. “Y-yeah! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with them!”

Their behavior filled Dimitri with doubt, but he couldn’t find it within himself to call them out on them. Not when they were so happy about it. He still managed to express himself a little bit though.

“Are you certain that they’re gift-worthy? I wouldn’t want to accidentally poison my dear friend.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that! They’re perfectly edible! See?”

Annette reached out for another cookie, only to be reprimanded by another Look from Mercedes. As Annette backed off, the gentle cleric refocused her attention back towards Dimitri. “Now, how you package the cookies is just as important as how you make them. Appearances go a long way in making something extra special. Do you have a bag for the cookies? Wrapping paper? Ribbons? I can provide you with some if you don’t.”

“I have what I need, but thank you for the offer.” Dimitri replied. He wasn’t lying, either. He really did have the materials needed to package his present, although he didn’t care to admit that they were for his earlier attempts.

His heart was in his throat as he retreated back to his room to prepare for the fateful meeting. If he screwed up his perfect present for Dedue at the last possible step, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. His father certainly had plenty of ideas, on the other hand. Dimitri squeezed his eyes shut, to will away the nagging voices and the headache they brought with them, and only partially succeeded. His head didn’t throb as painfully as before, but his ghosts still lingered. They taunted him with every crinkle of paper, with every deft maneuver of his finger around ribbons. 

But Dimitri refused to let them compound his fears. He wouldn’t be deterred. Miraculously, such affirmations worked. He managed to place the salvaged handcloth at the bottom of his repaired flower pot, seated the satchel of cookies on top of the cloth, then wrapped and tied everything together without cracking the pot or destroying a single cookie. 

The worst was over. Dimitry let out a sigh of relief. And the best part of his success was that he was now alone in his room, without his usual accompaniment of the dead. He might even be able to afford a good night’s sleep for once. Not wanting to let a rare opportunity slide, Dimitri retired to his bed, his swelled heart buoying pleasant dreams to the surface of his mind.

* * *

At Garreg Mach, the morning of the winter festival was reserved for more personal traditions like gift-giving, while the evening would host the annual grand ball. Being the house leader of the Blue Lions, Dimitri was expected to pitch in with some last-minute preparations, so if he wanted to give Dedue his present on time, he had to do it first thing in the morning. In fact, Dimitri approached Dedue so early, his ever-faithful vassal was still in his bedroom.

“This is… for me?” The aforementioned man gasped in surprise. His wide eyes took in the cheery red and green bundle in Dimitri’s arms, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“It is.” Dimitri nodded. “Please, take it.”

He placed his present in Dedue’s hands before he could voice any objections. After many winter festivals, birthdays, and other celebrations, Dimitri knew the best way to get around his obstinate behavior. And Dedue knew better than to work around his workaround by protesting.

“I am humbled by your gift, Your Highness.” Dedue lowered his gaze. “I only wish that I had something to give you in return.”

“We’ve talked about this before. Since my birthday was only several days ago, you shouldn’t feel obligated to come up with a second present. Besides, the chestplate you crafted is enough for this winter festival. In fact, I reckon that you fulfilled your gift-giving quota for the next few years.”

“Please, Your Highness. The chestplate is hardly worthy of such praise, seeing as it doesn’t fit you yet.”

“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I will grow into it, I’m sure.” Dimitri responded with his head held high. “Now, won’t you open your gift? I wish to see if it’s to your liking.”

“I will be satisfied with whatever Your Highness deigns to give me, but very well.”

The two men stepped into Dedue’s bedroom proper. As soon as they were seated, Dedue carefully tore the festive wrapping paper apart, revealing a curious bag nestled in an equally curious pot. His green eyes scanned over the container, shards of reddish-brown clay adorned with blue, white, and green painted swirls and bound together by grey mortar. It looked a bit like a mosaic, but Dimitri wouldn’t compare it to an actual art, not with how knobbly and uneven was. He had focused foremost on creating something that could actually hold a plant, and its silhouette had suffered as a result.

And yet, Dedue quirked the corner of his lips into a faint smile. “Where did you find this? I have never seen a flower pot like this before.”

“I made it.” Dimitri puffed his chest out proudly. 

Dedue stared back blankly. “You made it.”

“I did. Although…” He deflated somewhat as he explained the real backstory to his present. “I broke my first attempt. But then Ashe suggested assembling the pieces back together with mortar. Hence its… rough appearance.”

“It is not as bad as you think.” Dedue gently turned the flower pot around and around. Despite its flawed shape, it fitted perfectly in his hands. “Your repairs make it unique and it is, at the very least, functional. Thank you.”

Dimitri perked up at his praise. Compliments weren’t uncommon from Dedue, but for once, he detected some real, genuine joy in his voice and a twinkle in his eyes. He wasn’t just saying that to please His Highness. He actually meant what he said. He  _ liked _ it.

When Dedue took the bag of cookies out of the pot, he gaped at the colorful scrap of fabric at the bottom. He stuck a hand inside to fish it out. “And this is…” 

“It was supposed to be a scarf, but I accidentally tore it apart. Ingrid said it was too pretty to throw away the whole thing, so I cut out the messy parts and remade it into a hand cloth.”

“That’s very resourceful of you.” Dedue said while running fingers over the fibers. Now that he was actually holding the cloth, Dimitri realized just how much of it he had to slice away. It was barely big enough to cover Dedue’s hands.

If this cloth was given to anyone besides Dedue, they probably wouldn’t have liked it as much. But again, Dimitri noticed a jubilant glimmer in his eyes that said more than words could. Dedue’s lightheartedness, as subtle as it was, continued to persist as he turned his gaze towards the last present. Gentle hands gingerly untied the ribbon around the top of a bag and reached inside to pull out a picturesque peanut butter cookie. It didn’t look as perfect as it did when it came out of the oven, having been tossed around in a bag and all, but it still gave Dedue a reason to widen that slight smile.

“You made cookies for me?”

“With some help from Mercedes and Annette, yes.” Dedue’s incredulous tone (incredulous for him, anyway) made Dimitri smirk. If he aimed to astonish Dedue, then he succeeded by a large margin. “They’re peanut butter cookies from the Adrestian Empire. I thought that a cookie you haven’t tried before would make for a welcome surprise.”

“It is very welcome. Thank you, Your Highness.” Dedue remarked, seconds before taking a bit. The instant the cookie touched his tongue, his eyes bulged out much in the same way as Annette’s and Mercedes’s, when they tried his cookies. Which was to say, he was startled by the flavor, and not in a good way.

“Oh. Do you not like it?” Dimitri asked with a sinking heart.

Dedue didn’t answer right away, taking the time to chew and swallow his cookie. The long wait tormented Dimitri, and the response Dedue came up with did little to alleviate his nerves.

“It tastes quite alright, Your Highness. I apologize if my reaction offended you.”

“Please, Dedue.” Dimitri sighed. “There’s no need to lie to spare my feelings. I already noticed how Annette and Mercedes didn’t enjoy my cookies outright. If there’s something wrong with them, then I wish to know.”

Dedue paused again. From how his eyes darted between the cookies and Dimitri, he was considering a white lie anyway. Dimitri was unsure of what to do or say if Dedue wouldn’t admit to anything, but luckily the other man swallowed his objections (and the remains of the cookie) to answer.

“Your Highness, how much salt did you add?”

Dimitri rested his chin against a hand. “The recipe called for a half a spoon of salt.”

“Tablespoon or teaspoon?”

“There’s a difference?”

A look of shock from Dedue indicated that yes, there was a difference. He proceeded to explain further. “For future reference, a tablespoon is much bigger than a teaspoon. Cookies would not normally require so much salt. Still, Annette and Mercedes should have noticed your error. It is not your fault.”

But it was. Dimitri was the one who measured out the salt with the wrong spoon. Even if Dedue thought otherwise, Dimitri couldn’t rely on others to catch his mistakes all the time. What kind of prince was he if he couldn’t accomplish a task as simple as cooking? What kind of friend was he if he couldn’t triumph over his boarish strength and clumsiness to create even a single perfect gift. The ghosts of his father, stepmother, and Glenn seemed to take delight in his latest failure, and clambered incessantly into his ears.

_ “What a disappointment you are. Look at how the man of Duscur pities you. You don’t deserve such sympathy.” _

_ “Why do you even bother? You are better off slaying the villains behind our demise than trying to be a good friend. At least then he wouldn’t force himself to eat utter garbage.” _

“I’m sorry. Nothing I made came out right. Not the flower pot, not the scarf, not even the cookies. I ruin everything I touch...”

He stopped himself short before his voice cracked under the weight of his emotions. The last thing he wanted to do was saddle Dedue with his despair, alongside his foul creations. Dimitri instead lowered his gaze, so he wouldn’t meet the scorn of the ghosts around him and the concern of the man in front of him.

Another beat passed. Dimitri didn’t dare to look up yet, not until Dedue said something. But to his amazement, he heard Dedue open the bag again. Dimitri whipped his head back up and watched in confusion as his friend chomped down on another salty cookie.

“Dedue, please. You don’t need to keep eating them if you don’t want to.”

Dedue swallowed his bite before replying. “They aren’t so bad. The salt is not overwhelming to the point of making it inedible, and the texture is nice. And they came from you, Your Highness. That instantly makes them better than any other cookie I’ve sampled.”

“Enough with the flattery. I know the cookies taste terrible. Don’t torture yourself to make me feel better.”

“Do you think I am lying to you, Your Highness?”

Dimitri’s jaw hung open, but no words came out. He never heard Dedue sound so confident or look so defiant before. Blue eyes met green eyes that didn’t flinch under the scrutinizing gaze, not even when their owner brought the other half of the cookie to his mouth.

“May I speak candidly for a moment, Your Highness?” Dedue asked after he was done with his second cookie.

“Please. For you, permission is always granted. What is it?”

“The truth is, I love all your gifts. From this year, and from years prior. It matters not to me that they did not come out as you envisioned. You carved time out of your busy schedule to make them. You poured your heart and soul into them. It is more than I deserve.”

Dimitri let out a short laugh, causing a perplexed look to form on Dedue’s face. “It’s funny that you say that, because I personally thought you deserve better than imperfect trinkets and salty cookies.”

Dedue’s confusion deepened further. “Do you truly mean that?”

“Of course I do! You are invaluable to me, and I cannot think of living without you by my side. My gifts, handcrafted or not, are hardly enough to show how much I... appreciate you.”

He almost said something else, but bit down on his traitorous tongue at the last second. Dimitri hoped that Dedue wasn’t blushing because he figured out what he really meant to say.

“Your Highness.” He breathed out. “Your kindness, as always, is wasted on a man of Duscur and your humble vassal.”

“Well, it is the truth. Or do you think I am lying to you?”

The corner of Dedue’s twitched, a vague sign of amusement. “No. I know that you are being earnest. And you will not be convinced otherwise.”

“The same can be said of you, dear friend.” Dimitri half-sighed, half-chuckled. This wasn’t the first time they got stuck in a cycle of unworthiness and exaltations. The two of them should know better by now that the other party’s mind couldn’t be changed. But they still aired such grievances once in a while, if only to reaffirm their close bond.

Dedue shared a similar expression of exasperation and humor as he spoke. “Thank you, your Highness. I am eternally grateful for your gifts, and I will do my utmost to ensure that I have earned them.”

“You don’t need to  _ earn  _ my presents, Dedue. Just continue to be here for me. That’s all I ask.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Dedue nodded. 

Dimitri did not expect him to take his words, spoken in partial jest, so seriously. He had half a mind to take them back, but was interrupted by a gentle and warm hand on his shoulder.

“Still, I feel as though I need to give you something in return.” Dedue mumbled under his breath. “If I may…?”

Dimitri felt his cheeks burning with such intimacy. He thought Dedue hadn’t perceived his true feelings, but maybe he was wrong? What was Dedue asking for? His head buzzed with so many thoughts, he could only manage a slight nod. Immediately afterwards, Dedue pulled him into a comforting embrace. If he thought his hands were warm, then being enveloped in his thick arms was like being wrapped in a blanket that not only warded away the winter chill, but the sinister whispers of the dead. 

He closed his eyes and returned the hug. As Dimitri sank his head into his broad shoulders, Dedue turned his head ever so slightly so he could whisper into his ears.

“Thank you, Dimitri.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is basically one big shout out to the time when my sister added too much salt to her peanut butter cookies and I ate them anyway lmao


End file.
